Nerdy Apple Bottom

So I am at my wit’s end today.

Bubba is driving me nuts by having accidents in his pants, screaming, yelling, throwing, slamming doors, etc. He would not stay in bed last night. Wandered around the house well past 11. Screamed and pitched a fit when dragged back to his room.

Locked him in for his nap this afternoon. All was fine until he realized it then all hell broke loose.

Peanut has a real problem doing “chores.” Keep in mind, I don’t ask her to do the dishes or wash clothes. It’s picking up her room, brushing her teeth, being clean. Yet it is always a hassle of me reminding, then telling, then getting angry. I told her last night to clean her room and if it wasn’t finished, to do the rest this morning. Told the Detective that Peanut’s room needed to be cleaned before school. It is not clean.

The Detective doesn’t know where the laundry room is. Unless he needs one thing and then he’ll make sure that one thing is clean and screw the rest. And he works. A lot. There are weeks where we don’t see much of him at all. But he LOVES his job, so it isn’t torturous for him to work long hours. But when he works, I get no help. And he has no idea what is it like to be here day in and day out with tantrums and messes and chores and all the other minutiae that life brings.

Today I feel like live in help. Not a mother. Not a wife. Hell, I barely feel human.

And I’m pissed. Super pissed. And even more pissed than that. I feel this way every few months, have a fit, get in an argument, and then supposedly everyone will pitch in. But they don’t. And then it wears me down until I am where I am today.

And the worst part…when the Detective offered to come home. I told him to forget about it. I should have said yes and then gone to get a pedicure. But he wasn’t sincere. It was more patronizing than sympathetic. It was more like he was handling me than feeling any concern for me or, God forbid, remorse for his part in the whole thing.

And that pisses me off even more.